


Understanding

by YumeArashi



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeArashi/pseuds/YumeArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorenzo is only eight years old when he discovers what Giovanni truly is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> For kinkmeme prompt: http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/16841.html?thread=1887945#t1887945

Ever since Lorenzo had been rescued from drowning, he’d made it a point to look for his savior on his outings around Firenze.  He couldn’t help but want to know more about the mysterious Samaritan; he’d assumed, when his mother had explained that the stranger had saved his life, that the man was after money or political favors.  But though he clearly recognized Lorenzo and his mother, he’d graciously declined any offer of reward.  He’d politely declined to give even his name, and when pressed, he had simply bowed and smiled - and disappeared into the gathered crowd.

Lorenzo caught glimpses sometimes; a flash of white on a busy street, or a lithe figure winging across the rooftops.  Sometimes, the man would even catch his eye and smile.  But when Lorenzo slipped away from the adults to follow, the stranger was always gone by the time he got anywhere near.

Two years had passed in this mysterious game of hide-and-seek, and it was a chilly, rainy day in January when Lorenzo saw the man slipping through shadows near the Duomo.  He hadn’t seemed to notice Lorenzo, and the boy was delighted that he might get to confront him.  The man disappeared down an alley, now with Lorenzo quite close on his heels.  Lorenzo heard strange sounds he couldn’t identify - a wet, soft sound, a choked gasp, and a heavy thud.  He came around a corner to find his savior standing over a fresh corpse, hot blood staining the white robes thickly and coating a strange blade that was attached to his wrist.

The killer’s eyes widened as he saw the child and he quickly moved to stand between Lorenzo and the body of his victim.  “You should not be here, young master.”

Lorenzo stared down at the widening pool of blood, diluted by the pelting rain.  “I wanted to talk to you.  You always run away.”

“And now you know why,” the man sighed.  “No child should be involved in the work I do.”

“You underestimate me,” Lorenzo said impatiently.  “I am the future ruler of this city.  I should know about the things that transpire here.  Even the ugly ones,” he added more quietly.

“There will be time enough for you to learn.  You are young yet and need not know about such ugliness.”

Lorenzo shrugged.  “You don’t know that, nor do I.  I prefer to prepare for the worst.”  He pointed at the dead man.  “Why did you kill him?  And leave out the patronization; ‘he was a bad man’ is no explanation.”

The assassin looked as though he had been about to say exactly that, and had had to bite his tongue.  “He was a conspirator in a plot to murder the ruler of Genova.  It would go ill for the people there should they succeed.”

“Yes, that would destabilize the alliance they have with Napoli, and Milano has long coveted Genova’s wealth.  Sforza might well take advantage of the situation and attempt military action.”

The man stared at him, and Lorenzo returned the stare evenly, something in his gaze almost a challenge.  “I did say that I like to be prepared.”

It occurred to the assassin that he had never once seen the child smile.  “Well then, now that you know, what will you do?”

“Nothing.  It benefits Firenze to maintain the current political situation, so I can only approve of foiling this conspiracy.  I assume you have evidence?”

The assassin nodded, and Lorenzo held out his hand expectantly.  Slightly incredulous, the man handed over a set of documents, which Lorenzo looked over quickly, nodding in satisfaction.  “You have done good work.  Are you in the employ of my father?”

Still looking rather taken aback, the assassin shook his head.  “I am my own man.”

“What decides your targets then?  Do you kill for money?”

The assassin frowned, clearly offended.  “I kill to protect innocent people against those would bring about oppression and suffering.  My services are not for sale.”

“Then how do you live?” Lorenzo asked practically. 

“I don’t see how that matters,” he muttered, looking slightly irritable at the question.

Lorenzo eyed the man, noticing for the first time that his clothes were of good quality but well-worn, the blade at his wrist was showing signs of age, and that the sharp face was thinner than the bone structure merited.  “It matters when you have no other means,” he pointed out.

The assassin frowned fiercely.  “I said, I am not for sale.  If you will excuse me…”

“What about your other skills then?”

The man paused, thrown off balance by the question.  “My…what?”

Lorenzo waved his hand impatiently, the gesture ridiculously commanding for a child of eight.  “My family is the largest employer in Firenze.  Even aside from the bank, our household employs dozens.  Surely we can find you something to do in between your little excursions.”

The assassin looked at him warily.  “If this is because of my actions two years ago, I told you and your mother then that I wanted no reward, and I meant it.”

Lorenzo sighed.  “Your pride is ridiculous.  I offer because this way I can keep you close.  Your blade may not be for sale, but I will have need of the services of an assassin as I come into my own - whenever that may be.  And time changes many things.”

“Even an assassin who refuses to target any man unjustly?” he challenged.  “However many years may pass, I assure you that will not change.”

Lorenzo smiled then, a thin, uncompromising expression.  “Especially just such a an assassin.”


End file.
